Sayin' Goodbye Aint Easy
by catastrophicbeauty
Summary: Jack has a hard time saying goodbye to Bobby. non-slash, although if your squint...


"I wanna come with you."

Bobby turned around, determined not to let the kid see that his words had struck a chord, somewhere inside him. He threw his last item of clothing into the suitcase and pushed down on it hard, to zip it up. "What's that now?" he said, smirking.

His youngest brother leaned against an old oak chest in the room, furniture his mother had bought in the seventies, apparently, and sighed. "I hate school, mom's pissed at me, Angel…is being Angel and I'm sick of it here. I want to come live with you." He raised his eyebrows expectantly, hoping his brother would at least consider it.

Bobby didn't want to consider it. He knew he'd love to have Jack around. Despite the teenage angst and ungodly amounts of hair gel he used, he was a great kid. They hadn't been brothers for very long, two years, but in twenty four months, Jack managed to do something that no one else had been able to in that short amount of time. He had gotten Bobby to care.

"It's a bad idea, Jackie," Bobby said, lifting his suitcase and putting it on the ground. He took a seat where the luggage had created a groove in his bed. "I got so much goin' on right now. The last thing I need is to baby-sit a sixteen year old." He watched his brother scowl, a feeble attempt to pretend his words didn't sting.

He shrugged it off and said sarcastically, "If anything, I'd be taking care of you. You don't even know how to cook a proper meal, Bobby."

Bobby got up and ruffled his hair. "Listen ya fairy, I don't need a maid either."

He felt Jack's glare on the back of his head as he started to leave the room. "Screw you man," Jack said, undoubtedly pissed, but mostly hurt. "I'm sorry I even asked."

It was better this way, he decided. Somehow when Jack was pissed at him, it was easier saying goodbye. The last time he'd made an unoriginal crack about his sexuality but it irked the kid enough to make him act aloof when he was leaving and they didn't have to deal with the mushy stuff.

He walked into the living room and found his mother fiddling with her old record player. "Hey," he said, taking a seat on the couch, watching her in amusement as she tried to fix the ancient thing. She turned and smiled. "You all set to leave?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm gonna sit for like fifteen minutes and then take off."

She nodded and continued working. Bobby stared at her in surprise. "You're not sad to see me go." He meant it as an observation, a statement, but it came out sounding like a question.

"Oh Bobby," she sighed. She left the player unfixed and took a seat next to him. "I'd be lying if I said I was immune to your leaving." She pushed a strand of hair out of his face like he was ten years old again. "But it doesn't hurt to keep a brave face on."

"You don't have to try and fool me, Ma."

"Damn it, I will not cry," Evelyn said sticking her chin out like a stubborn child. The two of them soon dissolved into half-hearted laughter.

"You won't believe what Jack wants to do," Bobby said. He grinned, even though he felt an emptiness in his chest. "He wants to come live with me in Florida."

She shook her head and sighed. "Any excuse to drop out of school. I don't know what to do with that boy."

"Is he really failing three classes?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Bobby whistled. "Damn, what's he trying to do, beat my record?"

Evelyn smiled for a fraction of a second, before turning solemn again. "Well the way he idolizes you, I wouldn't be surprised."

Bobby shook his head and got off the couch.

"Where are you going?" his mother called out to him.

"I forgot to do something."

He stood outside Jack's door, contemplating whether to knock, before he remembered he was Bobby fucking Mercer. He grabbed the handle and barged in. Jack glared at him from his bed, where he was hovering over a sketchbook. "It clearly says knock," he snapped, pointing to the sign on his door.

Bobby ignored him. "Look princess, we gotta talk."

"Too bad," Jack said dismissing him.

Bobby sat at the edge of his bed and pointed to the book in his hand. "You drawing a big dick in there or what?"

"You could say that," Jack answered, shoving the book at him. Bobby glanced at the drawing for a couple seconds before realizing it was a picture of him, only Jack had been nice enough to make him look like Satan.

"For art class," Jack said with a feigned smile.

"Well, there's one class you won't fail," Bobby said. "It's good."

"Ha ha…"

"Listen," Bobby started awkwardly. Making conversation was clearly not his forte, and this was one of the few times, he wouldn't be able to get his point across with his fists. Not without getting in a heap of trouble with his Ma, anyway.

"You're not dropping out of school. I won't let you."

Jack snorted. "Like you have any say in my life when you're not even gonna be here."

"I'll never be far enough that I can't come and kick your ass if I have to."

"That's comforting."

"Jack you're better than me." It sounded weird saying it, but it was true and the kid needed to know it. Bobby raised his voice. "You understand? Just 'cause I dropped out of school and did an infinite amount of stupid shit, does not mean I'm gonna stand by and let you do the same."

Jack looked uncomfortable, because he suddenly realized he couldn't escape this conversation with sarcasm.

Bobby kept talking. "I'm no fucking role model. I'm the last person on this earth you should want to be."

"You're not that bad, Bobby," Jack offered.

Bobby stared at him grimly. "You want my approval, don't you kid? Everything little thing you do, you secretly want me to be proud of you."

Jack scowled. "Uh, no--"

Bobby smiled. "I'm proud of you, Jack. More than you know."

Jeez man, you starting to sound like a faggot."

"And nothing will make me prouder than seeing you graduate."

Jack didn't say anything, just stared back at him as an uncomfortable silence filled the air. But Bobby didn't mind. He could tell he'd gotten through to him.

"I gotta go," he said, getting up.

"Yeah okay," Jack said glumly. He tore his gaze away and focused it back on the sketchbook.

"I want a hug."

Jack couldn't help but grin. As much as it hurt, he got up and let his brother pull him into a hug that was awkward and comforting at the same time. It wouldn't be too bad, he tried to convince himself. Maybe he'd be back in a few months. Maybe. He bit his lip and fought back tears.


End file.
